


Just Talk to Me

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, because combeferre was not ready, i cannot stress how little business combeferre has to be calling a sex hotline, like super awkward phone sex, phone sex for science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre knows he's much too curious for his own good, but it's much easier to chase after curious distractions than face the fact that he is so hopeless when it comes to flirting with Courfeyrac next door.</p><p>(From this au: "‘I have a very cute neighbour and very thin walls and one day I call a phone sex operator and err your moans are very synchronised with my neighbour’s’ AU." That's it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Talk to Me

Combeferre didn’t need to do this. He really did not. But he also had not needed to go to a children’s science museum last weekend, even though he did (he woke up worried that they were going to oversimplify the mechanics of human motion. He went, and he was pleasantly surprised with the quality). He did not need to learn ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics either, but he did. Today’s curious act, however, was a bit different than those. It was an activity of curiosity nonetheless.

He was lost in his thoughts, fixating at what he was going to do that night-- _should I take notes? Most likely. Perhaps there are tips online. If I can, it would be interesting to ask them some questions. I wonder if they get that a lot_ \--when he was interrupted.

“Hey,” his neighbor said, fumbling with his keys. Courfeyrac had moved in to the apartment next to him a few weeks ago. “I, ah--don’t want to bother you, but could you hold this for a second? I can’t get my keys right.”

“Sure,” Combeferre held his hands open to hold the enormous watermelon that Courfeyrac had been holding.

Courfeyrac smiled at him, “Look at macho over here, not even flinching under the weight.”

He shrugged, more out of stubborn shyness than any humility. If he were a man who took what he wanted, who proudly presented himself to people he found attractive, he would probably talk about his fitness routine. He’d probably offer to carry the watermelon into Courfeyrac’s apartment, inviting himself in in the process.

But Combeferre was not that man, so he handed Courfeyrac his watermelon back without any trouble. “Anything fun for this weekend?” he asked, a casual thing to ask, he was sure.

Courfeyrac shrugged, “I got a watermelon. So probably eating watermelon.” He laughed at himself, “What about you?”

“I don’t have a watermelon, for one thing,” he admitted. _I’m running an experiment on human experience tonight._ “Just relaxing, I think.”

Courfeyrac hummed, “Well, if you’ve got a craving for melon from the waters--”

“It’s actually a berry,” Combeferre said, before he could stop himself. _Damn it._ “Sorry, um…”

“Oh, shit, don’t be sorry,” he smiled. _God bless that smile_. He held up the watermelon to examine it. “This big thing is a berry?”

Slowly, Combeferre nodded. “Yeah, technically all ‘melons’ are berries, but they’re bigger, so we call them melons and such. The watermelon is a pepo.”

“A pepo?” Courfeyrac laughed, “Well, then, if you’ve got a craving for _pepo_ , feel free to come knocking.”

“I, um, I will.” _No, I won’t._ “Thanks.” _You’re so cute._ “Enjoy your watermelon.”

“Enjoy your relaxation,” Courfeyrac answered, before he shut the door.

Combeferre took to going over every word he had said with Courfeyrac, flinching when he would land on something embarrassing that he said or did. _Stupid_ , _you could flirt with him!_ But he couldn’t, not when his mind told him over and over again that his cute neighbor was definitely not interested in someone like him.

He had had enough nights on the other side of thin walls to know that Courfeyrac was popular, and fun, and made everyone laugh, including himself. He knew that Courfeyrac was “just trying to find a _good guy_ ,” because he had shouted such to his friends. He knew that he sang at random points of the day and night, mixing English and Spanish indiscriminately.

He found all of him equal parts irresistible and unattainable.

But he had work to do, work that was intensely far from who Courfeyrac was. And that work required him to open up an incognito window in his computer, and look up “sex hotlines” on Google.

It wasn’t what people may have thought. There was nothing in Combeferre’s life that required him to be searching for people who offered phone sex. He was doing just fine in the sex department for himself. However, he wanted to know what it was like, how awkward it really was versus how awkward he thought it be, and possibly how these people were doing. And besides, sex work was horribly criminalized and stigmatized for absolutely no reason. People were paying for it; why are the employees the ones who bear the brunt of society’s scorn? It was disgustingly awful, and though he did not want to perpetuate any uncomfortable experience for those on the other end, he didn’t mind helping them out with salary. It was only phone sex, after all.

It was, truly, just for science that he dialed what his search promised to be the hottest phone sex of the tri-state area.

“Thank you for dialing this evening,” a pre-recorded woman’s voice purred into his ear, “Use your dial-pad to help us find you what you need. Press 2 for women, 3 for men, 4 for random, 5 for--” He pressed 3, and then wondered immediately if she should have pressed 2. But it soon continued.

A man’s voice took over, though still pre-recorded. “Before we go any further here, can you press 1 if you’re a new customer? We just want to--” Combeferre pressed 1 before he could know what the man’s voice was saying. “Welcome. We’re excited to show you what we can do for you. We’re connecting you to a newcomer specialist. Once they begin the call, your account will begin to be charged. It will appear as a discreet listing on your next phone bill. Please hang up now if you do not agree with our charges. Connecting now.”

And before he knew it, the phone was ringing. He looked around his living room--he had forgotten to look up tips before he called. He had no idea what to do. He felt like he should have brushed his teeth, or changed out of his work clothes for this. What was he doing? He didn’t have a slightest clue. _Fuck. Fuck shit fuck--_

“Well, hello,” another man said into his ear. Combeferre swallowed nervously. “How are we doing tonight?”

His voice was smooth. It was beautiful. It made Combeferre breath deeply and finally speak. “I’m a bit nervous, honestly.”

“Why’s that honey?” he asked, “You can’t be nervous about _me._ ”

“This whole, uh, situation is pretty new to me.”

“And why’d you call today, hm? Rough day at work?”

 _That sounds good._ “Yeah,” he lied. “Yeah.”

“What do you do?”

“Is this...part of it?”

“Asking my partner about himself?” he checked, “It doesn’t have to be, but I like knowing what I can do to make you feel good, get your money’s worth.”After Combeferre didn’t answer for a beat, he continued. “We can just get on with it, if you want. Do you have anything specific?”

“I’m a doctor,” he said, wincing at how he ignored the man’s follow-up questions. _God_ , _he’s going to think you want to roleplay a doctor because a dumb guy like you can’t possibly be one. Get yourself together! This is an experiment!_

“Well, fuck me sideways, wouldn’t my mother be proud?” the guy said, and it felt to Combeferre like he was breaking his sultry character a bit to say that. It made him relax a bit. “I have no doubt it’d be tiring, though. I’m glad you called me.”

Combeferre coughed, “Yeah. Yeah, so am I. Um--how are you?”

“I’m good. If I can be totally honest, I’ve been keyed up all day--really just want some relief. Do you want to help me with that?”

 _Ah. So this is how it starts._ “Sure, um...how should I--?”

“I’ll guide you, Doctor. You just answer. Are you comfortable where you are?”

Combeferre furrowed his brow, “I’m sitting at my kitchen table.”

“Why are you sitting there?” the guy actually laughed. Combeferre became red. “Oh, honey, go stretch on your sofa or your bed... or your floor if you’d like that. I’ll be here waiting.”

So he went. He wondered if he should take his clothes off. _You’re not actually getting off to this, though! That was not the plan!_ So he gingerly laid himself on his bed. “Um...hey, okay, I’m on my bed.”

“What a sweet man I have here today,” the guy purred. Combeferre’s eyes awkwardly flit around the room. “Do you want to do anything specific today? I’m up for it all.”

He hadn’t been expecting this question. His mind raced, but he couldn’t say that he had anything he wanted to _do._ He just wanted to know what this _was._ “No, I really don’t,” he answered truthfully.

The voice on the other end hummed, “You’re okay if I take control, love?”

“Yes.”

“How about I suck your cock?”

Combeferre’s eyes widened so much he was sure they could have fallen out of their sockets. So they really said things like that. This really happened. And the guy just kept going, obviously a professional at never letting things fall into awkward silence.

“All you need to do is relax, Doctor, and I would fit my lips--”

“How would this be phone sex if you were sucking my cock?” Combeferre blurted out, his scientist tone coming out, the one that questioned if there were multiple controls for variables in experiments or if a patient’s chart had been updated. _Well, at least you’re remembering why you made this call._

“I--” the guy stuttered on the other end of the phone, “I’m not actually doing it. I’d just, like, describe it. And you’d listen and in my experience, I paint a vivid enough picture. Get enough lube on there, tight grip--you’ll be good to go.” He had broken character again. “We could do something different, though.”

“Um...no, no, it’s fine.”

“I’d hate to do something you don’t want me to. You can say no; do you want me to suck your cock?”

“Yeah, sure.” He was in over his head. That had to be the problem. Wasn’t it? He could honestly see how people could get off to this thing, he could, and that was scary. But it was normal, wasn’t it? That’s why these hotlines existed...because enough people liked it.

The guy on the other end laughed softly, “A challenge to gain your interest. I see. Well, then, allow me to be excited for the both of us. Are your pants off?”

They were very, decidedly, on. “Yeah,” he lied, because no way was he actually taking his pants off.

The man whined shortly, “You did the fun part for me. Oh, well. At least I’ll be closer.” He hummed to himself, “I’d love to see your dick. The way you’ve been with me--I bet I’d have to get it hard, huh? You’re not all in yet, but I’ll get you there. Being there between your legs--oh, I love being here, I do. I love looking up, watching you watch me--is that okay? Would you watch me touch you?”

“Y-yeah,” Combeferre answered, furrowing his brow. He swallowed, determined to keep himself out of the situation. He clenched his jaw as he felt himself twitch for the stranger’s words. _Jesus_.

“I’m so glad,” he sighed. “I could stay here, looking at you, touching you forever. But we have other things to do, don’t we?” He paused, not getting a response, “Sweetie?”

“Um...yeah?”

“Why don’t you tell me when you’re hard, then we can--”

“Oh!” he realized that, of course, this man had no idea when to move on. “I--I am, yeah.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly, and his words had become breathy. _He’s good._ Combeferre didn’t have any experience with phone sex, but he knew someone skilled and natural when he heard this guy. “I wish I _could_ be there, I do. But I can’t, so you’ve just got to imagine me, let me know that you’re doing okay. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Combeferre replied easily, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good to hear,” he sighed, “Because if I’m here, just...touching myself as I think about you, I’d rather think about you enjoying yourself.” After a beat of stunned silence, he followed up, “Is that okay?”

“Jesus,” he whispered, then covered his mouth with his hand. _Do I come clean? Sorry for wasting your time, but I really was just curious about this thing, and I really don’t want to get off, and I’d feel bad if you were actually into this and I wasn’t giving you much to work with and_ \--

“Mm,” the man interrupted his thoughts, “Just relax, Doctor. I’m looking at your cock, and I’ve just got to kiss it. _Oh_ , I can’t bear it anymore--” he was whimpering by now, and Combeferre’s eyes were wide, his lips slacked, because he could actually _picture_ this. “--I start licking your cock, your _beautiful_ cock, and--oh, it’s so good.” His voice drops away from the receiver, and Combeferre wonders if he’s doing something else while he’s talking to him.

 _That’s what happens when people’s voice drop out of reach, right? They’re busying their hands, the phone on their shoulder, right? And--oh, well, he did say he was touching himself._ Combeferre reddened as he caught himself painting a picture, a picture which looked a lot like curly brown hair, ruddy skin, and dimples even as his jaw was clenched. _Fuck. Do not think of having phone sex with your neighbor._

When the mumbling didn’t stop, Combeferre coughed, “Um…”

“What, sweetie, what?” his voice was back.

“Oh. Um...your voice, I couldn’t hear it,” he admitted.

“I am so sorry, I...must have gotten carried away.” It sounded like a lie, but Combeferre didn’t mind. “I’ll pay complete attention to you, though, now. Oh, that was bad wasn’t it? Falling away from the phone like that? I shouldn’t tease anymore, no. I should take you all in me.” He moaned once, and Combeferre froze.

Behind the wall that his bed was pushed up against, he’d heard a matching moan. His eyes blinked in careful surprise as he tried to focus on what the man was saying, but still staring at the wall. _Courfeyrac_ \--was Courfeyrac moaning? At the same time as the guy on the phone was? He was a doctor; in medicine, they were trained to never think anything as coincidental symptoms. Everything had to be considered, so--

_How can I know if it’s him?_

“I like that,” he tried, feeling numb as he did so, holding his breath to see if it would have its desired effect.

“You like when I’m loud for you? Thinking about you? I can do that,” the man said, his breath quick. He moaned again, and there it was--on the other side of his wall. “ _Oh,_ Doctor, I love having you in my mouth. I love how you taste, I love--” Combeferre, as distracted as he was by the possibility that he could be having phone sex with his neighbor, was present enough to be disturbed by the slurping noise from the other end. _What the fuck was that? Why is he...slurping?_  “I--I’m so sorry. You...you make me _salivate_ , God, I would _love_ to have you in my mouth now.”

 _Nice save_ , he thought, nodding to himself.

The man kept going, “Oh, tell me, how close are you?” He moaned again, and by now, Combeferre got up from the bed. He walked quickly through the kitchen before he knew what he was doing. He’d pay for the call, absolutely, but he just needed to know.

“I’m, uh, I’m pretty close,” he said, wincing at the double meaning of the word as he stepped out into the hallway.

Another moan. “I can’t wait to feel you slide down my throat. _Oh,_ I want it, I--” he broke off.

Combeferre knew why; he knocked at his door.

Then it became clear that he would ignore the knocking. “Please, please come, Doctor. Pl--”

“Hey, um...hey,” Combeferre interrupted, and immediately the guy stopped. “I...think I may know you.”

There was nothing on the other end for a moment. “I’m sorry, is this part of it?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “Is this Courfeyrac?”

“Who is this?” the voice demanded. Any ‘character’ was gone, replaced by a very serious man. “Listen, dude, we have your phone number. Don’t try anything, all right? I’ll make sure you don’t call me again, you--

“Whoa, hang on,” Combeferre interjected.

Courfeyrac was still going, and Combeferre swore he could hear his rising voice through the door. “--This is a legal business, all right? I don’t know who you are or what you’re planning to do with my name, but--” Combeferre was struck by how confident Courfeyrac was, even in the panic of being found by someone through the hotline. _How many times have you had to talk people away from you?_

“Courfeyrac,” he interrupted again, “This is Combeferre. Next-door. Where I heard your moans synchronize with my phone call.”

“Holy shit,” he murmured. “I...fuck. Sorry. I can transfer you to someone else, no problem. Do you want that?”

“No,” he said quickly, still standing in the hallway. “No, it’s a long story,and I’m sorry for worrying you, but I really didn’t call to get off or anything. It was more...curiosity. And now that I say it aloud, it sounds ridiculously untrue and shameful of your work and not-at-all what I want to say, and--um...um, do you want to come outside? If you’re not uncomfortable.”

Courfeyrac actually laughed, “Just another day on call. Yeah, hang up now so you stop getting charged. Sorry about that.” Combeferre did as he was told, taking a deep breath as he slid his phone into his pocket. And then the door opened, revealing a remarkably put-together Courfeyrac--his skin was perfect, his panting obviously fake, his clothes just as neat as they were when Combeferre had seen him in the hallway before.

He had to smile. He had been as involved in that call as Combeferre had been--very little, if any bit, at all.

And Courfeyrac smiled back, his reddened lips pulling over his white teeth, betraying the dimples in his cheek. He held up a slice of watermelon, “So sorry for pulling away from the receiver. I just had to cut myself some pepo.”

“You mean that slobbering noise was just watermelon?” he asked, fake disappointment clear. What use was it to be nervous then? Hadn't they just been pretending to be having sex? “And I thought you were telling the truth.”

Courfeyrac laughed, “Sorry to disappoint.” He tilted his head, widening his door, “Would you like some, Doctor?” His flirtatious tone was all for bravado, his purr all for teasing’s benefit.

Combeferre was still blushing as he stepped inside.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a nice distraction from finishing my other projects, and I wanted to try my hand at the pairing, because I love them a lot. Come say [hello](http://lesbiamy.tumblr.com)!
> 
> I have no experience calling or operating a phone sex hotline. I did look up various "tips" and such to get an idea, because I'm not about that no research life, but I want to make that clear!


End file.
